


if your eyes (were not the colour of the moon)

by daleked



Series: Brief Lives: Alternate Universes [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAND AU AGAIN, M/M, Not Really AU, band au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-19
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-16 15:04:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daleked/pseuds/daleked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Space Wolf, an intimate duo out of Beacon Hills, CA, is here to share their transcendental tunes with you. With their looks and talent, it's no wonder that it's impossible to head down to California and not find a fan of their band.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>AKA that AU where Stiles and Derek are an indie duo.</p><p> </p><p>  <em></em></p>
            </blockquote>





	if your eyes (were not the colour of the moon)

**Author's Note:**

> For my beautiful Internet wife Sora. Happy birthday, my darling, and I hope you like this.

It doesn't always feel so cramped. Stiles sleeps with his head pressed against Derek's chest and they waked up smushed together, sour morning breath and Derek making a face when Stiles insists on talking. It won't happen that way, Derek tells himself. They're just friends. Really. He bites the inside of his cheek when Stiles gets tail after shows, draping himself over willing shoulders and kissing their owners soundly.

But it's Derek he comes home to at night, and it's Derek that gets to see Stiles with just his boxers and one sock on, drooling all over the sole pillow they have on their tiny bed. They spend ridiculous amounts of time together.

It's a tour thing, Stiles explains, and grins when Derek flops back down in defeat. They travel around with Stiles' rusty old pickup truck towing a trailer along, trundling and trickling down the California coast day by day. They perform shows, Stiles singing with a ukelele while Derek plucks away at his guitar. They can't tell anyone how it happens- mostly because it's ridiculous. Derek pens the songs and Stiles comes up with the little tunes for them, jaunty melodies and haunting, soaring notes for when they get Lydia Martin to accompany them on her violin. They're alright, in terms of popularity- they performed at Newport Folk as an opening band last year as well as Bonnaroo, and they've got a small band of loyal followers.

"Imagine performing at Austin City Limits," Stiles enthuses, and laughs no matter how Derek reacts. It's their thing, Derek supposes- Stiles laughing, and Derek coming along. They get rave reviews from music blogs, and Stiles reads them out loud from his battered iPhone. Derek listens, and sometimes late at night Stiles watches crap shows on his laptop while Derek nods off with his head in Stiles' lap.

+

_Space Wolf, an intimate duo out of Beacon Hills, CA, is here to share their transcendental tunes with you. With their looks and talent, it's no wonder that it's impossible to head down to California and not find a fan of their band._

_Self-proclaimed “indie-meets-wolves”, Space Wolf has carved itself a space in its listeners hearts, wedged tightly between The National and Kimya Dawson. Their impossibly intimate songs usher the listener into a nebulous world of family deaths and myths of monsters, tales of fires and first loves. While certainly not college-boy pseudosentimental, the duo has a certain ethereal charm about their songs, which are available on iTunes in the form of two EPs._

_Preceding the title track in their EP Hail Fire, “Into the Dawn” is one of their most popular instrumental tunes.  Within the first few introductory notes, the guitar is joined by a mournful violin. The song proceeds to twist and burrow into the corners of one's mind, fragile and lingering long after the end. The mood of the songs range from early Vampire Weekend chirpy to Mountain Goats thoughtful, and lead singer Stiles Stilinski's voice fits perfectly into every single one of them. He is backed by the songwriter Derek Hale, placidly coaxing out haunting melodies from his guitar fit to break the hardest of hearts._

_Though yet unsigned, Space Wolf is clearly destined for great things. Download one of their EPs or catch them on tour this summer._

+

"Music is way better therapy than actual therapy," Stiles says when he finds Derek hunched in the grass, shoulders shaking with sobs. Derek gets it bad when it nears the anniversary of his family's deaths, sometimes holing himself up for days and reappearing a week later looking like a mess. It breaks Stiles' heart a little whenever his bandmate works himself into a state like he is now, trembling in the grass.

"It's alright, Derek, c'mon," Stiles murmurs gently, and hums a nonsensical tune as he sits down and curls his arms awkwardly around Derek. This is the first time he's touched Derek when he's like this, broken and sliced apart so neatly that even Stiles could pick out his hurt and thread it together to form a web that will keep them together, as a band, as friends. Not as... You know. A couple, or anything. It would be taking advantage. Taking advantage of Derek, whose first love left him and passed away a couple of months later, whose family died in a freak fire, whose uncle is still lying in a coma back in Beacon Hills. Derek Hale, who has but Stiles, an old guitar, a leather jacket and a couple of wifebeaters.

They stay there for a while longer, until Derek stops shuddering and melts into Stiles.

+

They've just finished a performance and Stiles is cosying up to one of the patrons at the bar, loose plaid shirt flapping around his waist as he pushes up against them, smiling coyly. Derek has seen this a million times, but something twists in his gut all the same. He remembers how Stiles had stayed out with him last week, rocking him and babbling on about how it was great trying cold lobster buns, how his dad wants them back for Christmas and keeps nagging at him to get a girlfriend, for crying out loud, dad, and how his best friend Scott has a little girl now and she already has his puppy grin down pat. Her name is Victoria, after Allison's dead mom, and there are a lot of dead parents in Beacon Hills, huh?

Derek smiles a little and turns his head away, missing the glance that Stiles sends his way.

+

It had started out when Stiles was in the forest looking for Scott's escaped rabbit. He'd come across Derek trawling through the ruins of his family home, absently stroking the charred remnants of a guitar that had belonged to his sister. And Stiles had spoken to Derek like he was an actual person, not like a glass vase on the verge of shattering. Asked him how New York was. Derek had been reluctant to open up, but Stiles had a way of breaking down walls like they weren't even there. Uncle Peter approved heartily of their friendship, but was later involved in an accident at the gas station. A leak or something, and it was ironic that Derek lost all of his family to fires. A week after the accident, Stiles appeared, bearing a guitar and dragging Derek out of the dingy apartment he used to share with Uncle Peter.

As Scott likes to say at reunion dinners- the rest was history.

+

"You're late," Derek says without looking up. Stiles slams the door behind him, staggering into the trainer and kicking off his shoes. He's tipsy, Derek realises, and lowers his book. Stiles rarely drinks enough to make his gait unsteady. He stares at Derek, who is sitting on the bed in boxers and a wifebeater, looking utterly ordinary.

"Fuck," Stiles says, and runs a hand through his hair. "You're always fucking waiting up for me." Derek raises the book in his hand pointedly and Stiles ignores it, coming over. He sways slightly as he stands over Derek.

"Always, god. Always fucking staying up making sure I'm home safe. This is home, shit. Fuck." Stiles drops to the floor in a crumpled heap of plaid and long limbs, covering his face.

"Your dad?" Stiles nods.

"He had a heart attack at the station in the middle of the afternoon. Jesus. Luckily they knew what to do. I want to go back and see him but he insists that we finish the tour, for god's sake, family... I don't know." Derek doesn't know what to say and stays on the bed, frozen. Stiles clambers up, eyes bright, and Derek can smell the alcohol on his breath. Stiles' eyes are swollen, and he mashes his face agains Derek's arm, exhaling softly.

"I don't know what I'd do," Stiles admits. "I don't. Don't know. You know." And he presses a kiss to Derek's shoulder before slumping down onto the bed, closing his eyes and turning away.

+

They cancel the rest of the tour and drive back to Beacon Hills. It doesn't cost them that much money, and they've made a fair bit from the earlier shows. Derek drops Stiles off at the hospital and drives to Stiles' place alone, dropping off the car and trailer. He walks to the hospital, to the long-term ward, and visits his uncle.

Stiles makes Derek sleep in his old room and Derek teases him about the cartoon on the wall. None of them think of getting out a spare mattress and fall asleep squeezed together on Stiles' bed.

+

Stiles is attempting to grill some burgers when  Derek comes out with the beer. Scott rests in a chair and bounces his daughter on a knee while she laughs, and Allison looks on indulgently from distributing the pasta. She thanks him for the bottle and Derek finds it odd how unaffected he is by her, considering that her dead aunt was his first love, but tells her that she is welcome anyway. Scott declines the beer and goes for the lemonade jug instead, downing a glass after dumping a crapload of sugar in it. Derek hands Stiles the beer and Stiles thanks him absently before turning around to kiss him. They both jerk back and freeze, staring at each other. The silence stretches and quivers, broken by Scott's yelp. Stiles looks flustered, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips nervously. Is this-

"Pay up, Allison," Scott crows. "I told you they were together!" Derek puts down his own beer slowly, eyes fixed on Stiles' wet lower lip, and leans in for another kiss.

They have burnt burgers later.

+

Stiles is minding his own business at the supermarket, picking out a brand of silicone lubricant and tossing it in his hand brazenly when he sees Derek on the opposite side of the aisle with Isaac Lahey. Stiles remembers that guy from high school. Nice parents, even if his dad seemed a little crazy-eyed. Stiles creeps closer and attempts to spy on them in between cereal boxes.

"Alpha, we need you," Isaac says, his voice pleading. "There's a pack coming to challenge us for Beacon Hills territory, and we-"

"I left that behind years ago," Derek snarls, and Isaac grabs his wrist.

"Please," Isaac says, but Stiles isn't paying attention because Derek's face shifts, nose bridge growing thicker and broader, teeth sharpening and protruding. He looks distinctly wolfish, and he's growling at Isaac. Stiles stumbles backwards and knocks over a few boxes, eyes wide. Derek turns at the noise and his eyes widen, taking in Stiles' expression. He tugs his wrist out of Isaac's grip and they run over to Stiles' aisle.

"Stiles-"

"Dude," Stiles cuts him off. "Those songs about werewolves were real? And here I was thinking you were just really into Twilight." But Derek still looks stricken, so Stiles grabs his hand and threads their fingers together.

"It's fine," Stiles says. "Really. Did you think I didn't notice that you like to sniff me a whole lot more than is normal?"

+

There are a lot less songs and a lot more werewolves that winter, but they get signed. The tour is for next summer, and Derek plans it so that they'll be passing through wolf territory to re-affirm the news that the Hale pack is back up and running very well. The pack is staying to defend the territory and apparently, Space Wolf will have the funds for actual hotels this tour round. Stiles' dad is better now, too, having eased up on his workload as well as red meat and liquor.

"Happy, happy, happy," Stiles sings tunelessly, and Derek stuffs a pillow in his face. They scuffle and Stiles protests against the use of wolfy strength, squirming underneath Derek's body and arching up sinuously.

"But seriously, though. I'm happy." Stiles tells Derek. "Really happy. Unimaginably happy."

"Ugh," Derek grunts, but his eyes shine as he hovers above Stiles. "Fine, me too."

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to know what you thought of this.


End file.
